Welcome to Funky Town
by Demosthenes23
Summary: Think of this as an alternate version of The Murdoch Effect, in which Murdoch seemingly has everything he could ever want.
1. Chapter 1

A moment ago he was in his office, finishing up a report. Now he was, well, he didn't rightly know. Clearly it was a lobby to a hotel, a very extravagant hotel - with several chandeliers hanging, ornate furniture, and golden trimmed archways – but other than that, he had no clue.

"Mr. Murdoch!" called a familiar voice from behind the admissions desk. "This is an unexpected pleasure!" continued the man as Murdoch approached, his shoes echoing loudly in the empty grand hall.

When Murdoch was closer he recognized the man to be none other than Henry Higgins! It had taken him a few moments to figure out since Henry didn't look very similar to the man he knew. This man was wearing the sort of clothing one would expect a clerk to wear, that is to say, much finer than a constables outfit. He also had small circular glasses that barely covered his eyes and his hair was slicked back oddly and much darker than Murdoch was accustomed to. When Henry smiled, Murdoch detected glimmers of gold within and Murdoch knew he must be very rich. Vaguely he wondered why Henry was working as a clerk if that was the case.

"I wasn't informed of your earlier arrival date." There was a slight accusatory edge to his tone but overall his voice was extremely cordial. Henry looked out the large glass doors and towards the darkened street. "And apparently no one else was either. This has to be the first time I haven't seen the paparazzi hounding our doors."

Murdoch raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"And where is Mr. Crabtree this evening?"

"I'm not sure," he answered truthfully.

Henry muttered something that might have been, "No doubt finding himself in trouble." The man cleared his throat, smiled again and said, "If you don't mind my asking, sir, why didn't you just fly in via helicopter, like you usually do?"

He had no idea how to respond to that either since he didn't know what Henry was talking about. Well he vaguely understood. Hélicoptère meant something like curved wing...if you broke it down into it's Greek constituents that is.

"Sir?" prompted Henry, his smile wavering slightly.

Murdoch cleared his throat. "I suppose I was not in the mood for..." he gestured vaguely, "flying."

Henry leaned in a bit across the desk. If obsequiousness was a physical property of air, he would have been coated in it.

"I completely understand, sir. I would imagine six hours in a tin can, no matter _how_ fancy, would be rather enough for anyone."

_Tin can?_

"You must be tired, sir, why don't you head on up and get some rest? Or if you're hungry, I can have Mrs. Kitchen whip you up something nice to eat."

If her cooking was anything like what he was accustomed to, the answer was a resounding no. Besides which, he was feeling so bewildered, he just wanted to close his eyes and wake up from this vivid dream.

"Tired," he muttered, "very tired."

"Very well, sir. I bid you adieu then."

Henry stared at him curiously when he continued to stand there. There was a ding from further down the lobby and he looked in the direction of the sound. Silver doors opened sideways to allow two women out. Murdoch took the hint and moved over to their position. Even from here he understood the contraptions to be elevators. Vastly different to what he was acquainted with, but elevators all the same, six of them, all told.

_ A rather extravagant amount_, he thought absentmindedly.

The young women were not only dressed oddly - if he wasn't much mistaken they were garbed in some type of trousers as well as rather inappropriate blouses- but acted oddly too. They simply stood there, staring at him, almost open mouthed.

"Hello," he said, giving them a small uncertain smile.

Neither said anything but one of them giggled and still eyeing him, madly whispered to her friend.

_All right then._..

The elevator door had been held open by a white gloved attendant dressed in rather bright colours. Murdoch did a double take when he recognized this smiling man as well.

"_Worseley_?"

"Sir, how nice to see you again!"

Worseley touched the topmost button. Murdoch was slightly surprised when it lit up, but much more so by the number.

_Sixty-five! My goodness! How can a building be that tall?_

"How was your trip, sir? Did your presentation go as planned?"

Feeling like he had to respond, he went with something non-committal. "It's too soon to tell."

"Oh I'm sure you impressed them," Worseley said, with a warm smile. "You always do."

Murdoch caught a glimpse of himself in the highly polished mirrors that lined this enclosure. The changes were as follows: his hair was not greased back at all but was instead coiffed and styled a little strangely at the front; his suit was subtly pinstriped and open; he wore no tie or vest and his collar was not done all the way up. What really surprised him though was the material his clothing was made out of. Clearly it was silk, something he could never have expected to afford in his wildest dreams. Therefore he knew none of this was real.

Unlike his previous encounters with elevators this one was much more pleasant. There was very little jerking and noise and considering the distance they had to travel, it was over exceedingly quickly.

The doors parted and revealed a spacious abode that seemed to stretch on for miles.

_Where is the corridor?_ he thought flabbergasted by the immensity of the space. _Certainly this cannot be just one persons apartment?_

Worseley was giving him a puzzled look. "Are you okay, sir?"

"Yes, yes, I am fine. Goodnight Worseley."

"Goodnight, sir."

Murdoch stepped out and the lights turned on! He whirled around to see who had flipped the switch but there was no one there, no one except an increasingly concerned looking Worseley.

"Sir, are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes," he managed to croak out as he took in his surroundings, gaping at everything in awe. There was a grand piano off in the corner. Several libraries worth of books. Lavish yet familiar furniture strewn about. He had seen things like this many times during the course of his dealings with James Pendrick. But to think this was all his, impossible!

Bright lights caught his attention and he walked a ways across the hardwood floors until he reached the other end and the gigantic windows lining this side. What he saw made his jaw drop even more.

The number of buildings, of impossibly tall buildings was incredible! Little squares of light twinkled out haphazardly from all of them. He looked down, very thankful it was not daytime, quite sure he would have hyperventilated from the drop.

_Such ingenuity!_ he thought to himself, hand trembling on the glass. _Such immensity! _

Suffice it to say, the sprawling urban landscape before him served to make him feel very small and even more bewildered than he already was.

There was a rumbling whooshing sound and his gaze now turned upwards. If he wasn't much mistaken, he could see lights passing by! It reminded him of the blimp the government had been working on a few years back. Well in 1895 anyway. This was clearly a different era. Even a simpleton could see that!

As he tried to wrap his head around all of this, and calm his heartbeat back down to a reasonable level, he became aware of another sound, much fainter than the machine that had passed by in the starless sky, but a sound nonetheless. He of course had assumed he was here alone, but now he was not quite so sure.

Murdoch headed in the direction of a light way down the hall here. He passed by room after room, more lights coming on as if by magic, the noise becoming louder all the while. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of the sound. Why would there be rain inside?

He turned into an open doorway, into a massive bedroom, and stood just outside of another room, what he assumed to be the water closet. After a moment or two of straining his hearing, he detected the unmistakeable sounds of intermittent humming.

It was a woman's voice!

Quickly he looked to his left hand and saw there was no wedding ring there. The idea of living with a woman while unwed was almost incomprehensible to him. Half of his mind told him to flee before she became aware of his presence while the other curious half kept his feet firmly planted.

Suddenly the falling water sound stopped and the humming became much more apparent. He had heard that humming before...in the morgue!

_Julia!_

A second after he thought this the door to the water closet opened, steam billowing out thick and heavy and the woman in question emerged through it like some ethereal creature.

This Julia's hair was much shorter than he was accustomed to, only travelling down to her shoulders, complete with a weird fringe across her forehead. Her hair was a little messy but otherwise completely straight and he had to wonder if it was always like that or if it was simply because it was wet currently. Of course, these thoughts all took place over the span of a microsecond. For there she was, almost within arms reach, wearing virtually nothing. Strange hair styles were the least of his concern.

Their eyes met and at first she jumped, put a hand to her chest and gasped in a very Canadian accent, "Will!" She released a nervous giggle, "Don't- don't do that!"

"Sorry," he muttered stupefied, eyeing her toweled form.

"You're home so early!" she squealed happily, quickly closing the gap between them and embracing him tightly. Her hair smelled delectable, like strawberries. "I thought it was several days yet?"

"Plans changed," he managed to get out, uncomfortably aware of her figure pressing against his body.

Despite his best efforts, he could not prevent a certain natural reaction from occurring.

"I missed you too," came the breathy response and then a nibble on his ear!

Julia let go of him and he was thankful for this brief respite. Then she loosed her towel and let it drop to the floor causing his heart rate to skyrocket into the stratosphere and his eyes to bulge out of his skull. It was impossible not to look at the perfect womanly specimen before him. All of his fantasies in this regard had not done her proper justice.

Since he simply stood there in such a stupid attitude, it was no wonder that she gave him a funny look. Apparently his demeanour also amused her because she laughed as well.

"Well?" she asked, hands on naked hips. "What are you waiting for, hot stuff?" Murdoch gulped or at least attempted to through his now very dry throat.

Julia frowned. "I've never known you to be so shy." She touched his forearm. "Is something the matter?"

If this was a bizarre fantasy, which it _must_ be - for what other explanation _could_ there be?- then it would be perfectly fine for him to succumb to his almost overwhelming desires and ravish her right here and now.

Unfortunately a small part of his logical brain was still functioning, pushing him to investigate this matter further before proceeding.

"Am I dreaming?" he enquired, touching the warm flesh of her hand. "Or are you really here?"

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, making him uncomfortable again. "You're a sight for sore eyes too, hot stuff."

Why did she keep calling him that? What did that even mean? What was going on?

Unsure of what to do next, he decided to tell the truth. This task was easier said than done. It was _very_ difficult to focus as she was rubbing her nose (as well as other parts of her body) against his. "Julia, listen to me," he babbled, "something strange is happening here. I am not the man you think I am. I'm from another century, eighteen-ninety-eight to be precise. I'm a detective there and I had just finished up a case before finding myself here and-"

Another musical laugh proceeded this statement. "Really, Will, games? I would've thought you'd just want to get straight to the good stuff. But okay," she grinned, "I'll play along." She moved away from him again, into a large closet, pulled out a silky purple robe that did little to hide her figure and laced it up. "My name is...Dr. Ogden," she said seductively, advancing on his position. "I'm a feisty physician who uses radical techniques to help her patients." She tugged on his lapels roughly. "Which is good news for you, detective, because you seem to be rather confused of late." Her hands were trailing lower, feeling up his chest and abdomen, sending further thrills through him. "And there's only one way to get down to the bottom of a mystery like that." Her luscious lips were grazing his own, just begging to be tasted. "I'm afraid I'll need to examine you quite thoroughly."

At the last she clutched his buttocks and it was all he could do not to yelp in alarm and arousal. If strange sounds hadn't sprung into life at that exact moment, he doubted he would have had the strength to resist her further.

She released various parts of him and muttered, "Damn it."

If his vocal chords had been working he would have scolded her.

Over by the dresser a light was flashing. Apparently the little rectangular device was also emitting the bizarre sounds.

Julia scooped it up and glared at it. Then she pressed the front of it and held it up to her ear.

"This better be good," she barked in a manner reminiscent of the inspector.

There was a short silence.

"You're sure?" she said with a sigh.

She removed the device from her ear, touched it again and scowled.

"There's been another one," she informed him, as if that meant anything.

Then she went back to the ridiculously large closet, pulled out some clothes, threw them on the bed and disrobed.

Within a remarkably small span of time she was dressed in a manner very similar to the strange girls from the lobby, but somehow where Julia was concerned, the snug, sleeveless blouse was not an issue for him. After fiddling in the water closet for several more minutes she came out with combed hair, lipstick on and dark lines surrounding her eyes. While he did not approve of makeup, he had to admit that the effect made her eyes even more vibrant than usual. So once more he wasn't going to complain.

After strapping a holster around her waist, complete with pistol, she grabbed her coat, gave him a quick peck on the cheek and said, "I'm so sorry." Giggling at the doorway, "Rain check on our little _game_?"

A trail of perfume remained long after she was out of sight, further muddying his mind. Completely overcome by the events of the last few minutes, he collapsed on the very large, very comfortable bed and closed his eyes, hoping that when he next opened them, things would be back to normal.

They weren't.


	2. Chapter 2

Considering the inner turmoil he had been in before laying down, he got to sleep surprisingly easily. Murdoch attributed this mostly to the extreme comfort of the bed. He had never slept on anything like it in his life. It did not creak every time he moved, nor was it lumpy in places. Every muscle in his body was able to relax with no strain whatsoever. To him it was akin to being back in the womb or sleeping in a zero gravity environment, as if he were in space. In short, it was wonderful!

In the morning he investigated under the sheets to find it was made of some sort of absorbent material that molded into the shape of his hand while pressure was applied but sprung back into apparent solidity when it wasn't.

_Miraculous!_

Mind you, this investigation did not happen immediately upon awakening. For you see, when he first opened his eyes, it was to find a bare arm across his chest. Cocking his head to the side, he found Julia in a rather skimpy negligee, sleeping soundly. The rise and fall of her half exposed bosom distracted him for several minutes until he felt familiar stirrings down below and finally snapped out of this pleasant hypnosis. Then he spent another few minutes just concentrating on her face, thinking back to a vivid fever dream he had underwent two years ago.

The Julia of his dream or more precisely his own subconscious, told him that they could not be together because they wanted different things out of life. Well, now he was in a whole new world and things were _very _different and yet they were clearly together. If it were possible here in this time and place, why not back in the Toronto of 1898? What was really preventing them from starting over there? The engagement?

Though he considered himself to be a gentleman in most respects and would honour whatever decision she had made, the truth of the matter was that the engagement was hardly an insurmountable obstacle to climb. No, what had been much harder to get past was his damnable pride. She had left him hurting for a long time after leaving for Buffalo. The only thing that got him through such tough times was the knowledge that it hadn't been easy for her either. But when they next met, she had clearly moved on, as if what they had had together had been nothing special, and _this_ revelation more than anything else had ripped his heart to shreds all over again. The wounds still hadn't healed fully, but they were finally on the mend.

Being in this serene moment with her by his side put things into perspective for him and he felt like he could finally forgive her and prevent her from making a terrible mistake, effectively ruining both of their lives forevermore.

Unfortunately he was in no position to stop _his_ Julia from being wed! Dismally he wondered if it were even _possible_ to get back to his time. Then his bladder roused him back to the present and he gingerly removed her arm, afraid to awake her, lest she decided to pounce on him again, and then shuffled into the water closet to relieve himself.

It took a few moments to figure things out in there but his mission was almost silently accomplished regardless. Beside the sink was some sort of clear vertical tube and he supposed it must be the source of the falling rain. Murdoch stuck his head in and warm water immediately splashed him in the face! He sputtered for a moment and then collected himself. Nervously he glanced back into the bedroom. Julia had not been disturbed.

_Phew!_

Murdoch dried his head and upper torso with a very fluffy towel for longer than he needed to.

Cautiously he investigated the mattress and then went exploring the massive complex, shoeless. The room directly across from this one contained men's hats. That was it, just rows and rows of hats! Walking along them, he occasionally picked one up and put it on, observing himself in the central mirror each time. Most looked absurd on him he thought, particularly the large cowboy hat, but there were a few that suited his fancy and it was no surprise to him that they were the only homburg hats of the bunch. Since it made him feel more at home and at peace with himself, he left one of those on.

The room beside this one was similar to the one before, in that it only contained one item of clothing. This time it was shoes. About three quarters of them were of the type he had been wearing last night, that is to say, fine Italian loafers. However, the rest of them were much more incomprehensible to him. Not only did they have brightly coloured, garish designs, but their top portions seemed to be made out of nothing more than a flimsy piece of cloth! If they hadn't been more flexible than the shoes he normally wore, there would have been no merit to them whatsoever.

There was nothing much of interest to him in the next few rooms, just more bedrooms larger than his entire loft had been. Further down the hall, closer to the elevator, he came across a wondrous sight. A massive room full of bicycles! At least, he thought they were all bicycles. Some of them had more than two wheels and others had their seats very low to the ground. He lifted a regular looking bicycle off of its hook and was astounded at the lightness of the materials. All told it couldn't have weighed more than a few pounds!

Across from this room was a gymnasium. The only things he recognized were the hanging black punching bag, the dumbbells and a stationary bicycle. Everything else in this room was a mystery to him. So in typical Murdoch fashion he felt compelled to investigate. The first thing he approached was a contraption with a horizontal and vertical component. He pressed some inlaid buttons on the console until one of them responded and the device hummed into existence. Suddenly he started to move backwards! Alarmed, he grabbed hold of one of the protrusions and jabbed at more buttons hoping to make it turn off. Instead he only succeeded in making it go faster! Before long he was jogging on the spot. After his initial bewilderment passed, he found it to be most pleasing. But then it just seemed to pick up more and more speed and with only a pair of socks on, he slipped and just about smashed his face into the console! Finally his senses returned to him and he jumped off to the side and pulled the plug manually.

_Devil machine! _he thought, glaring at it with contempt.

The impulse to try out the other machines in this room vanished in a flash.

With that examination at an end, he headed over to the main space that he had originally entered and took another view out of the grand windows. The scene before him wasn't nearly as beautiful in the daytime but it was still quite the sight to behold. Now it seemed as though he could see for miles, as if the whole city was his kingdom. The feeling it inspired was identical to that which he experienced with Julia in the hot air balloon.

Working up his courage, he peeked downwards and felt his stomach drop unpleasantly. He closed his eyes and tried again after a few moments. This time the vertigo was less and he was able to focus on the sights. Miniscule figures scurried this way and that. Horseless carriages covered the streets in close proximity. Electric trams moved along either side. Poles with lights on the tops changed colours periodically. Everyone and everything seemed to be slave to them. It was bizarrely fascinating to him and he stood there mesmerized by the erratic dance for some time.

Then he wandered around the immense open space, eyes trailing along the never ending bookshelves, confused by most of the titles and subject matter. Off to the side was a large glass tank full of water and a variety of colourful fish swimming around in it. Despite his vast lexicon, he didn't know what any of them were called and the sheer immensity of it made him long for simpler things, like Julia's goldfish in an Erlenmeyer flask.

When he glanced up at the painting beyond this tank, he did a double take. It was identical to the one Sally Pendrick had given him last year! The same colours, same shapes, same...landscape.

_Curious, most curious!_

In the centre of this space there was a small rectangular device sitting on a glass table. There were a host of buttons littering its front. Considering how things went with the device in the gymnasium, he shouldn't have fiddled with it but he found he couldn't help himself.

Pressing the button labelled power, he jumped in surprise, dropping the controller, as the entire wall before him burst into life! After a few more seconds he understood that the larger than life people weren't actually there but were instead being projected from somewhere else, somewhere unseen. A moment later he recalled a conversation he had had with Tesla...about modulating electrical waves so that sound and images could be broadcast wirelessly.

_What had Tesla called it? Television?_

Vastly impressed, he picked up the controller and hit the channel buttons. The scene on the wall changed and was now a flowing river. Each time he pressed the channel button, the scene changed without any effort on his part, no reel to change, no crank to turn, no nothing. Most of the time it was just more inappropriately dressed people talking, kissing...or worse. Once in awhile they were shooting at each other, and Murdoch was annoyed at how inaccurate the report of their weapons was. On a few channels some _really_ scantily clad women were gyrating oddly and...singing. At least, that is what he thought they were doing. He didn't much care for the 'music' or their movements and quickly changed the channels whenever they appeared.

Then he came across a scene that seemed to be straight out of his own life and he stood gaping.

_What on earth?_ he thought, as he watched a properly attired man writing on a chalkboard, creating a suspect elimination list just like he would do. Two men stood nearby looking puzzled as the first man explained his reasoning. A female who looked a bit similar to Julia entered the office and enquired how the gentlemen were getting along and then informed them that she had a new clue for them to ponder. The two men left, leaving the woman and man alone. Without any explanation or apparent reason, they were now in each others arms, madly kissing, apparently intent on eating each others face!

Understandably, Murdoch's head began to hurt and he turned the television, or whatever it was called, off. Somehow he doubted this is what Tesla had had in mind when he first postulated the idea.

Rubbing his temples, he plopped down on one of the black leather sofas and instantly regretted this decision. A horrible racket rocked through his frame, throughout the entire complex and he jumped back to his feet, hands covering ears, heart hammering wildly.

Where was it coming from?

A few moments later Julia stormed into the room. Her mouth moved but he couldn't hear what she was saying. She marched past him, pulled a cushion away to reveal yet another rectangular device and pressed a button. The thumping noise ceased.

"What the hell, Will?" she barked at him, gesturing angrily. "It's not even seven!"

"Sorry," he muttered, looking mortified.

Julia rolled her eyes. "I swear, sometimes you are the _dumbest_ genius I have ever met!"

He supposed now was not the time to ask her what that noise had been all about.

"God, I need some coffee!" she exclaimed and headed to the other side of the open space, an area he hadn't explored yet.

With trepidation he followed her lead and found himself in a large kitchen. As usual, there were many things he had never seen before and consequently didn't know the names of. Everything gleamed though and looked to be very expensive.

Julia took some sort of packet and stuck it into the coffee brewing machine and a little while later her mug was full of the steaming stuff. Hungrily she breathed in its aroma and then looked up to see him staring at her.

"If you want some," she grumbled, "you better make it yourself. _I'm_ sure as hell not going to do it."

"I do not like coffee," he said without thinking.

Julia made a face at that. "Since when?"

"I just meant...," he gestured vaguely, "I did not want any right now."

"Whatever."

She sat down at the table and picked up a newspaper. Murdoch was pleased to know that those at least still existed, and in much the same format he was accustomed to. Almost immediately she scowled and tossed it aside.

"Is something the matter?" he asked, cautiously.

"It's just this damn case!" she lamented, head in hands. "It's driving me up the walls!"

Murdoch picked up the paper and goggled at it for two reasons. Firstly the date said it was September 3rd, 2013! He hadn't expected it to be a new millennium! This revelation was almost more staggering than anything else so far. And the other reason he goggled was due to a rather curious headline:

_The Kissing Bandit Strikes Again!_

It was no surprise to him that the reporter listed was none other than Paddy Glynn! This was the exact case he had just finished up with before coming here.

He smiled. "I believe I can be of assistance in this matter."

Her head whipped up and she gazed at his sincere expression. Then she burst into snorting laughter. Murdoch was taken aback and frowned at this unexpected reaction.

"Thanks for the laugh, Will!" she gasped out, punching him in the arm. "I really needed it! Almost makes up for your rather unwelcome rousing strategy!" She glanced at him coyly and stroked his hand. "You know, there are far more _agreeable_ ways to get me up."

Murdoch didn't like the look in her eyes so he cleared his throat and changed the topic back to the case. "I assure you, Julia, I can help you locate this kissing bandit." Smugly, "In fact, I already know who he is."

Julia made another face. "How? You haven't even been in the country for the past two weeks!" She looked at him suspiciously. "You got some illegal big brother network I don't know about?"

Bewildered he nevertheless replied, "No, nothing like that."

"Then what?"

"I cannot tell you," he mumbled, wincing peremptorily.

"Like hell you can't!" she yelled, jumping up. She poked him in the chest. "I thought we promised not to keep secrets from one another?"

Murdoch gulped under her furious gaze. The last time he attempted to tell her the truth, she was all over him. This time she would likely become even angrier with him. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

Out of ideas he blurted, "Please excuse me, Julia, but I must go relieve myself now!"


	3. Chapter 3

**I was really tempted to post a bogus announcement about _not being able to continue this story for the foreseeable future due to an important matter I must deal with_, but I have too much respect for your intelligence to play dumb jokes. Besides, I already played a dumb joke last year...and some of you liked it more than my usual stuff...hmm...**

* * *

After Julia stormed out in a dour mood, Murdoch was left to his own devices. Now that there was no one left to disturb - at least he didn't _think_ anyone else lived here; the place was so large it was hard to say for sure - he could have easily wiled the day away examining everything here without worry. But he didn't much feel like doing that. He wanted to get out and explore the Toronto of 2013 and see if there was still any part of his own beloved time present. And above all, try to figure out a way to get back to this time before his Julia completed her nuptials.

Worseley greeted him in the elevator and made pleasant, though meaningless conversation with him all the way down to the lobby. The ground floor was much busier than it had been last night and he had to dodge past many a person to get to the main doors. Just the lobby itself seemed to be more crowded than any street he had ever walked upon in his life. Needless to say, outside was a rude awakening in comparison.

Not only was it extremely noisy and disorienting, (what with all the tall buildings pressing down on him) but it also _smelled_ funny too. It seemed to be a combination of sewage, exotic foodstuffs and whatever was coming out of the ends of the horseless carriages. He stood there watching the carriages for some time, trying to figure out what propelled them. Electricity seemed to be out of the question. So was steam (they wouldn't smell so bad if the emissions were simply water vapour). Murdoch concluded they must be propelled by gasoline powered engines, something similar to what Dr. Birkins had hoped would revolutionize the world. Even back then Murdoch had been concerned about the consequences of the fumes. Here was the living proof in front of him that his fears were warranted. It didn't make him happy to know he had been right.

And had it really been worth it to doom the planet? What was so liberating about these machines? They could only inch from one lighted pole to another. He could almost walk faster than that!

Disgusted with mankind's eagerness to self destruct, he looked for a quiet place to calm down. Parks were familiar; parks were peaceful; parks were the closest thing to home in this metal and grey world. From what he could recall of the aerial landscape of the city, there was a park not too far from here.

While making his way there exceedingly slowly (because of the lighted poles), he became aware of the fact that he was being followed. Curious, he nevertheless decided to simply ignore them. Confrontation seemed like the last thing he was cut out for in this era. As long as they didn't bother him, he didn't really care.

However, by the time he made it to the park, (Queen's Park no less!) there were more of them and he was starting to get uneasy, especially since most of them seemed to be pointing cameras in his direction. Murdoch thought maybe he could lose them if he simply picked up the pace. The park was larger than he recalled in his time but it was still much the same design, with the exception of a large statue of a man* riding a horse in the centre.

In any case, having some knowledge of the setup didn't seem to be helping him evade his stalkers. They were a very determined bunch and managed to keep up with him at every turn. Many people were watching his progress, all of whom seemed to be confused by his conduct. Out of breath finally, he was forced to stop nearby a fountain and they descended on him like vultures.

Before they could devour him whole, there was a flurry of movement and a horse galloped up beside him!

"All right then," said a man's voice calmly, "you've had your fun. Go on, get out of here."

The group did as they were bade, though rather sullenly. Apparently they had been having great fun at his expense.

Murdoch gazed up at the man dressed in red. "_Jasper_?"

"William," he replied curtly, touching the brim of his hat. Then he gracefully descended to the ground, keeping one hand on the reigns and offering the other one to Murdoch. After the firm handshake was concluded, they began to leisurely stroll along the paved path.

"Why are you here?" Murdoch asked.

The edges of Jasper's lips twitched. "Peculiar way of thanking me for my services."

Murdoch smiled slightly, shaking his head. "Yes, thank you very much. I just meant, why are you in Toronto?"

Jasper looked at him oddly. "Why shouldn't I be?" Murdoch gave him a blank look. "I've lived here my whole life, William. So have you." Jasper observed him closely. "Are you feeling all right? You look a little pale."

"Yes, yes, I am fine."

"I doubt that," Jasper said with a piercing stare. "You came here without your bicycle. You must have known what would happen. And since it's inconceivable that your short time away could have had any impact on your beautiful mind...clearly there is trouble in paradise."

Murdoch didn't know what to say so he shrugged. Jasper put an arm to his chest, barring his movement.

"Did you have another fight with Julia?"

Murdoch nodded.

"It's obvious what your problem with her is. I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet." Murdoch looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Jasper sighed in an exasperated way. "William, she's waiting for you to propose." Murdoch gaped at that. "And why should that be so surprising, young man? You've been together for almost a year, half of that sharing the same quarters. You're practically married as it is."

There was a silence. "Does your hesitancy in this matter have anything to do with Sally Pendrick?"

"What does Mrs. Pendrick have to do with anything?" he enquired, bewildered.

Jasper gave him another concerned look. This time he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Have you been sleeping well lately?"

He was about to reply in the affirmative, when a noise chirped up from the vicinity of Jasper's shoulder. Jasper cocked his head to the side and spoke into a small black rectangle. A short conference ensued with an unseen person and then Jasper said, "Well, I must be off. There's some hooligans causing a ruckus nearby." Jasper jumped onto his horse. "Try and get some rest, William. If you're still feeling confused tomorrow, you know where to find me."

Murdoch watched the Mountie depart and vaguely wondered what he was supposed to do next. He didn't need to wait long before a strange rumbling sensation around his right thigh provided a new challenge. Digging his hand into his suit pocket, he pulled out a flashing rectangular device, that looked very similar to Julia's. Seeing so many people with them on his journey here gave him a pretty good idea of what they were.

He held it to his ear and very clearly said, "Hello?"

Nothing happened except a continued vibration in his ear and palm.

Then he remembered how Julia had tapped the front of it first before speaking. He did so now and repeated the question.

"Are you serious? Are you even serious? What the hell are you doing, Will?" came an irate voice. Murdoch was tempted to drop the phone and run but instead held it a little ways from his ear.

"Who may I ask is speaking?" he said pleasantly, if not a bit nervously.

"Ha ha, very funny!" barked the unamused voice. "Now answer the question!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I really don't know what you are talking about."

"In the park! With the paparazzi swine! What were you thinking?"

_Paparazzi? Didn't Henry mention them yesterday?_

"I suppose I was not."

"You're damn straight you weren't! Get your ass over here pronto!"

"Where is here, sir?"

"Would you stop that sir nonsense! Over here, in the limo! To your goddamn five o'clock!"

Murdoch turned to find a dark haired man waving from a rather long horseless carriage and he made his way over there, the feeling of trepidation increasing with every step.

Inside this vehicle, he found George sitting across from him, giving him a rather mean look. His short prickly hair seemed to match his attitude exactly. Then he tapped the partition behind him and said, "Take us to HQ."

"Yes, Mr. Crabtree," came the muffled response.

"You've got really bad timing, you know that?"

Murdoch looked at him cluelessly.

"The show tonight? That ringing any bells?"

"What show are you referring to, George?"

"What show he asks," muttered George, running a hand down his face. Then he leaned across and rapped him on the forehead a few times. "Hello? Anyone in there? You've got a date with Steve!"

"And who is Steve?"

George looked at him incredulously and started sniffing him! Murdoch was rather uncomfortable and fidgeted while this lasted.

George settled back into his seat, legs splayed, eyeing him suspiciously. "You're not high...on weed anyway." He picked up a tumbler and poured a clear liquid into it. He downed it. Murdoch wanted to chastise him for drinking so early but decided against it. "Listen, Will, if you've got a nasty habit I don't know about, now's the time to come clean."

Murdoch thought that was ironic coming from him.

"No, George, no nasty habits."

George sized him up for a few moments and then his expression relaxed. "Yeah, okay, I believe you. I would've figured it out a long time ago if you did. He smirked, tapping his head, "I got remarkable insight."

They sat in relative silence for a few minutes, with only the occasional blaring horn to jar his senses. He thought the limo smelled a bit odd, but in a different way than the city, and the abrupt stop and go motion was making him a little queasy. All in all though, it was comfortable enough.

"Hey wait a minute," said George, pointing a finger at him, looking like he'd seen a ghost, "isn't that the same suit you came back in?"

"Indeed it is, George," he responded.

"Well, why the hell are you wearing it _again_?"

"Why not?"

"Jesus!" he exclaimed incredulously, slapping _himself_ in the forehead. Understandably, Murdoch wondered about such a strange reaction to such a seemingly innocent response. "You've got a reputation to uphold! You can't go wearing the same suit _twice_, and especially not the very next day! Thank your lucky stars they didn't get any pics of you yesterday! Unbelievable," he muttered as an after thought.

George went to pour himself another drink and Murdoch felt it necessary to speak up this time.

"It's not even nine o'clock, George."

"Are you my grandmother?" he retorted. Murdoch just stared. "No, so mind your own business!"

Conversing with this version of George seemed to be just as confusing as the one from 1898. Murdoch hoped he wouldn't be trapped in tight quarters with him for much longer. This mans brash manners were starting to give him a headache, as was the hectic movements of this entire era. If only he had a few quiet moments to himself, maybe he could figure out how to get home.

Some time later the limo pulled up to a gated entrance, through which was another large complex, though this one was much smaller than his residence, only thirty stories high instead of sixty-five.

The limo stopped and George immediately hopped out, full of youthful vigour. Murdoch took his time, doing his best to quell the now rather turbulent seizures in his stomach. Needless to say this slow manoeuvre procured a few choice remarks from his impatient companion.

He was about to ask where they were when he noticed a large sign across the front of the building. It said, _Murdoch's Mysteries._

* * *

*** Edward VII. Statue was moved from India in 1969.**


	4. Chapter 4

Just through the main doors was a pair of life sized metal frames. On either side of them stood an imposing man dressed in the same black uniform. George removed a pair of keys from his black leather jacket and stuck it in a tray just outside of one of these frames. Then he walked through it and the man standing beside it handed back his keys. Murdoch followed suit, but a light flashed and a loud noise sounded, startling him badly.

"Sir," said the man in black, "your watch."

Murdoch was about to search his vest pocket when he remembered he wasn't wearing one. Then he looked where the man was looking, (at his wrist) and pulled back his suit sleeve. A fancy timepiece resided there. He wondered how he could have missed that this whole time.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you step back and try again."

"Would you give it a rest!" snapped George from a few feet away. "He's the freaking CEO! He's not going to bomb his own building!"

_This entire building belongs to me_? thought Murdoch flabbergasted.

"I realize that, Mr. Crabtree. I'm just trying to follow protocol."

"Whatever," grumbled George, as Murdoch repeated the procedure sans watch.

"Everything all right here, boys?" came a familiar British accent.

"Yes, Brackenreid," was the quick, slightly nervous response.

Murdoch snapped his watch back on and gawked at the man before him. Brackenreid seemed to be twice the size of the man from his time. His gigantic build was practically bursting the seams of his uniform. Vaguely he was reminded of the pugilist from one of his earliest cases. Needless to say, only a fool would dare meddle with such a manly specimen as this.

"Mr. Murdoch," said Brackenreid with a smile. He held out a massive hand. Murdoch hesitated for a split second and received it, wincing internally. Surprisingly his bones were not crushed. "Would you like to hear my report now or later?"

"Let me guess," said George sarcastically, "everything ran right as rain?" The second half of that sentence was spoken in a poor approximate of Brackenreid's accent.

Brackenreid gave George a menacing stare that would have curdled a lesser mans blood. George just continued to smirk.

"Pity you had to come back too," said Brackenreid darkly, advancing slightly. "Why he keeps you around is beyond me."

"Funny, I was just going to say the same thing."

"Listen here, sunshine-"

It looked like blood could be shed so he mediated the situation by clearing his throat and saying, "Gentlemen, _please_."

Both of them snapped out of their threatening stances and gave him a quick apology.

As they made their way to the elevator at the end of the main floor, Brackenreid gave him his report. George had been right. Everything had run smoothly in his absence.

The chief of security went his separate way once they reached the elevator, prompting George to make a rude comment under his breath. George hit the button for the top floor.

"You do not like Brackenreid very much."

"No, ya think?" said George sarcastically again, rolling his eyes.

"And what may I ask is the source of this discord?"

His companion glowered and said, "He stole my girl."

"Oh I see."

They rode in tense silence the rest of the way up.

Things were pretty quiet on the thirtieth floor, with only a single person sitting behind the receptionists desk. Murdoch raised an eyebrow when he recognized the woman to be Anna Fulford, but did not blurt anything out like he was wont to do on previous occasions.

"Will!" she exclaimed happily when the doors parted. "Welcome back!"

"Anna," he said, with a nod.

She came around the desk and hugged him. Murdoch awkwardly returned the gesture and George sniggered behind him.

"Stuff it," came Anna's response. She released him and he felt marginally more comfortable. "It's so good to see you, sir! Things have been pretty dull in your absence."

George frowned. "What, has Michael not been coming in and doing his job?"

"Yes, of course he has. I just meant..." she glanced away from Murdoch's face as her voice trailed off.

George sniggered again eliciting a glare from Anna.

_Did no one like George in this time_? He couldn't exactly blame them...

"Get us some grub would you, darling?"

"What would you like?" she said after composing herself.

"Surprise me." George smiled sweetly. "If I don't like it, I'll fire you."

Anna became indignant, "You can't-"

"It was a joke," waved off George.

"Very funny," she said. Anna headed back behind her desk and picked up the most normal looking telephone he had seen since coming to this era.

George placed a hand on Murdoch's shoulder and attempted to direct him somewhere else but Murdoch spotted his name on the office door beside Anna's desk and felt compelled to investigate.

"What are you doing?" said George exasperated, standing just outside.

It was bigger than the one from his time, but not overly gigantic like his residence. Odd windows lined one side of it. They were circular and about the size of a persons head. He imagined it would be hard to see much out of them. Perhaps that was the point? Fewer distractions?

Considering this space was sparsely furnished and rather plain, it would add up at least.

On the desk was a replica of...something, some sort of machine. There was an inscription on the base. It simply said, "_To beginnings. JP._"

George scowled at him. "I don't get why you never tossed that."

Murdoch shrugged.

"Well anyway, you've got a long day ahead of you." He jerked a thumb behind him. "Better get started as soon as possible."

They made their way to a room that appeared to be an assembly hall of sorts, judging by the number of chairs situated around the large oval table (twenty all told). A high backed chair at the farthest end seemed to be reserved for the overseer of this room.

_Me, I suppose._

After taking his seat, George took the one nearest and stared at him. Apparently he was expecting him to do something but Murdoch didn't know what.

"You had your coffee today, Will?"

Murdoch shook his head. "I have not."

"That explains a lot actually."

George swiped a finger across the table in front of Murdoch and a schedule appeared! With difficulty, he restrained himself from touching.

"Looks like you've got the wonder twins up first." George smirked, "That should be good and long." He patted Murdoch on the back and stood up. "Well, have fun!" he laughed and left.

Once again, George was quite right. The wonder twins update on something called robotic hybridization was exceedingly lengthy. Even if Murdoch had been able to understand the faintest thing they were talking about, he would not have been able to focus for very long. For you see, the presenters were none other then Robert Perry and James Gillies!

They were just as pompous as he recalled from their brief encounters two years ago and he was very glad to be rid of them when they finally concluded their presentation, the only fascinating part being the designs showcased on _floating_ images above the centre of the table! How such a feat was possible, he couldn't even begin to speculate.

Thankfully Anna had brought in some delicious fare (brightly glazed donuts; much better than the larva he had been expecting) a few minutes before this presentation began and he had occupied himself in eating far too many of them, which surely would have elicited more stares from George had he been present.

The rest of the morning and afternoon continued in much the same manner; a never ending stream of employees coming in and out of the conference room, giving him updates on their latest projects. This in itself wasn't so bad. The problem arouse at the end of each presentation when they stared at him expectantly, waiting for his feedback and/or guidance. Invariably his responses were very vague and almost every single person left that room bewildered.

So it was a great relief to him when George appeared and told him he was done for the day.

"You better head on home and get changed. You can't go on the show looking like," George made a face, gesturing at him, "that."

"Show?" he enquired mechanically.

George groaned. "Don't tell me you forgot again?"

"The show," Murdoch said nodding. "Yes, of course I remember."

George checked his own shiny wrist watch. "Traffic's gonna be a bitch. Better take the chopper."

They headed out to the back lot where the silver helicopter resided. George got into the passenger side, leaving the pilot's seat for him.

Once they were strapped in, George stared at him.

"You gonna get this thing started or what?"

"I don't think that's a very good idea, George. I'm rather tired," he added truthfully, when he received more strange looks.

George's face lit up and he rubbed his hands together. "Guess that means it's my turn for once!"

His gleeful attitude had the opposite effect on Murdoch, alarming him greatly.

"George, do you know what you are doing?" he asked as his colleague started flipping switches, apparently at random.

"Yeah, yeah, no worries. I've done this loads of times." The propeller began to whir and then abruptly stopped.

"_George_."

"Okay, maybe not loads but enough." This time the engine continued to throb through him for more than a few seconds. "See, I got everything under control."

When there was a fair amount of noise from the chopper's blades George placed a two sided apparatus over his ears, and Murdoch copied him soon after, pleased to note a marked decrease in external sounds. George pulled back on the stick in front of him and the chopper took to the air briefly and then touched down again.

"Just warming up!" he said hastily, when Murdoch raised an eyebrow in his direction. "It's supposed to do that!"

Again they went up in the air and came back down shortly after.

Murdoch lost his patience. "The sheer irresponsibility of continuing to pursue in this folly-"

"Oh, like you never live on the edge!" George snapped back.

"I try not to."

George whipped his head towards Murdoch and cackled with laughter through the intercom. "That was a good one, Will! You really sounded sincere!"

Taken aback, he nevertheless placed a firm hand to George's arm. "Turn this machine off right now."

"Or what?"

"Or I will _make_ you turn it off."

George glared at him. "I don't do well with ultimatums."

In his most authoritative voice he said, "I am your superior and you _will_ listen to me."

Finally George grimaced and did as he was told. The helicopter was still and silent.

"Now," Murdoch said calmly, "perhaps you can locate someone more qualified to pilot this craft?"

"Still don't get why you don't just do it yourself..." he grumbled.

"George!"

"Right away, _sir,_" George said, hopping out.

Within a few minutes the on call pilot had been summoned and a little while later they were in the air. Suffice it to say, Murdoch was fairly frightened at first to be hurtling passed buildings at a much faster speed than the limo. Despite this fear, he was able to observe the entire city, all of which was so far removed from what he once knew as to be unrecognizable. By the time he began to enjoy himself, they had arrived at the landing pad atop the sixty-five foot high housing complex.

"Keep her running," said George to the pilot. "We'll only be a few minutes."

* * *

Julia was waiting for him in their apartment. She had been poring over files in their oversized living room just moments before. The noise from the helicopter had alerted her to their arrival.

She came right up to him and placed a hand on his forearm. "I heard about the incident in the park."

George muttered, "Nice to see you too."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No time, Jules, we gotta be in and out real fast if we're gonna make it there for six-thirty."

She glared at him. "I wasn't talking to you, _Crabby_tree."

Will smiled and patted her hand. "That's kind of you to ask, Julia, but I am fine. I simply had a momentary lapse in judgement."

Searching his chocolate depths, "Are you sure that's all it was?"

Will cleared his throat and looked to the left. "Indeed."

She had overseen enough interrogations to know he was lying. The grip on his forearm tightened. "The truth now."

"Jesus, Jules!" George exclaimed, tapping his foot impatiently. "We really gotta go!"

"Damn you and your schedule!" she retorted, eyeing George angrily. "You've always got him so high strung, it's no wonder he's lost his grip on reality!"

"Fine!" he shouted, throwing up his hands. "_I'll_ go pick out his threads while you two love birds hash things out for the millionth time!"

George stomped out of the 'room'.

"Please, Will, tell me what is on your mind."

He gulped. "You will undoubtedly be vexed with me again."

"Whatever it is," she said, steeling herself, "I can handle it."

Will gestured towards the files scattered across the central coffee table. "As you may recall, you desired to know how I knew the identity of the bank robber."

"Yes, I admit to being curious about that," she said, brow furrowing, "but what does that have to do with the park incident?"

"All in due time, Julia." If he had patted her hand here again in that supplicating manner, she probably would have bit his head off. "I believe it prudent to ease you into my unusual revelation. I mean you no disrespect, but no matter what you say, you almost certainly cannot...handle it."

She was annoyed at his lack of faith but bit back her retort. He must have noticed because he said, "For you see, I myself am having troubles coming to terms with the...reality of my situation."

What was he trying to say? For a fraction of a second she feared he was going to say he was gay but then she mentally slapped herself for being so ridiculous and focused on his words again.

"I know who the culprit is because I have already solved the exact same case."

"What do you mean? Before you got into engineering, I thought you were a logger up north?"

Rather than answer her he said, "I have it on good authority that The Kissing Bandit is Paddy Glynn."

"What?!" she yelped. "How can it be _him_? He's the one that's been writing about it this whole time!"

Even as she said it, something clicked inside and she knew he was right. Glynn was always the first reporter on the scene, he was about the right height and build...everything fit! So it was that she barely heard Will's next words...she did not take kindly to looking foolish.

"Precisely, Julia," he said nodding. "His goal was to cause a media sensation and then reap the benefits."

"That rat bastard!" she barked, fists clenched. "I'm going to make him pay!"

And with that she grabbed her coat and vanished.

* * *

A moment later George stalked into the room with a parcel slung across his back. Presumably it was the suit encased in a black coverlet.

"Where'd Miss High and Mighty go?" George asked glancing around. Murdoch opened his mouth to respond. "Never mind, don't answer that. Let's go! You can change once we get there." There was a slight pause by the door, "Oh and one more thing," he said, whipping Murdoch's homburg off his head and tossing it like an elegant aerial projectile across the living room and into a bookshelf. "No dorky hats!"


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh my God, you're even more gorgeous in person!" squealed Jessica, his oriental makeup artist.

Her hands were on his shoulders and he was a bit frightened by her somewhat fanatic gaze in the lighted mirror, but otherwise, he was feeling remarkably calm considering he didn't know what this show business was all about, and why he was here.

"Your skin is absolutely flawless," she said as she stroked his cheeks for longer than was necessary, if indeed it was necessary at all. He was quickly becoming uncomfortable and embarrassed with such close scrutiny of his physical appearance.

"And your lashes, oh my God, they are the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life!" For a second he was afraid she would feel compelled to touch them too and inadvertently poke him in the eyes. Thankfully she refrained from this and instead placed her hands back on his shoulders. "Do you know how many girls would _kill_ for them?"

Murdoch frowned. "That anyone would contemplate such an act over something so inconsequential is unconscionable. That many would is unfathomable."

Jessica appeared puzzled and then she burst out laughing.

"Oh my God! You're so funny too!"

Annoyed at her constantly taking the Lord's name in vain, he made a face to showcase his displeasure. Apparently she didn't notice. Then she picked up a black brush, something similar to what he would use when applying ink for locating fingermarks.

"Well, there isn't much I can do to make you _more_ handsome," she said with a smirk, "so I'm just going to lightly apply a bit of foundation, just so that I can say I did my job. That okay with you?"

"I suppose so."

After Jessica finished this task, a flamboyantly dressed negro with a speech impediment came over to style his hair.

"Honey," said the silver haired man while he played with Murdoch's hair, "you want to keep this simple?" Jayden grinned, "Or can I go wild?" He winked through the mirror.

Uncomfortable again Murdoch fidgeted in his seat and replied, "Simple would be best."

"That's too bad," Jayden said, visibly pouting. He winked again, "We could have had so much fun."

Jayden got to work. Shortly after this he asked, "So tell me gorgeous, you single?"

Murdoch supposed he was asking if he was courting someone. Technically he wasn't, in his time at least, but he didn't think that qualified in this case. And besides, he was hesitant to inform this man otherwise. There was something not quite right about him.

"I am spoken for."

"Not surprised," Jayden said with yet another wink. Murdoch was beginning to wonder if it was a facial tick, similar to his speech impediment. "Still, a hunk like you, must be fighting them off left right and centre."

All of a sudden Murdoch was quite certain this man was a homosexual and fervently awaited the point at which he would stop touching him. What seemed like an interminable time later Jayden was finished.

As Murdoch was examining himself in the mirror, George barged into the dressing room without knocking first and said, "Show starts in five. You pretty enough yet?"

"I believe so," he replied.

"Good." George gestured down the white hallway. "Well, come on then!

* * *

"We've all heard of _Murdoch's Mysteries_, that hugely successful enterprise responsible for many of the innovations we take for granted today, but what do we _really_ know about the man behind the scenes? With the exception of a highly publicized falling out with the now infamous James Pendrick, the answer to that question is probably not much. So it is with great pleasure I welcome the man himself to fill in some of those pesky gaps! Give it up for Mr. Gadget, the one, the only, William Murdoch!"

Uproarious shouts and clapping accompanied this exclamation. Murdoch hesitated, afraid to step into the limelight and towards such ubiquitous noise.

George muttered, "Oh for the love of God!" and then shoved him forward towards masses of shrieking women. That really seemed to be the extent of the audience, with only a scattered male here and there. Vaguely he wondered if they were homosexuals.

Timidly he made his way over to the host, Steve Michaelopolous; timidly he shook the middle aged mans hand; and timidly he sat down in a spacious yellow chair and stared out across at the sea of adoring people.

While the crowd still roared, Steve said, "Thanks so much for agreeing to do this, Will!"

"You are most welcome," he responded with a shy smile.

Finally the noise ceased and it was utter silence. All eyes and cameras were fixated on him. Suddenly he longed to be anywhere but there. Cold sweat threatened to break free at any moment.

The only reason he had agreed to come here was because he had the sneaking suspicion that he must play out this strange tale in its entirety, as if this was like the tail end of _The Christmas Carol_ and once he repented his sins he would be able to return home and stop Julia from marrying another.

In other words, he would just have to toughen up and make the best of the situation.

"You're a self made man," Steve began, "a veritable rags to riches story. I'm sure we'd all like to know, what's your secret?"

He clutched the arm rests tightly, desirous to stop his hands from shaking. He was unsure whether to address the audience or the host and so was continuously alternating between the two. "I am not at liberty to say."

"Fair enough," Steve said, clearly hoping for more than that. "Your nickname, Mr. Gadget, given to you by the public at large," Steve said, leaning across a matching chair, as if attempting to engage Murdoch in deep meaningful conversation. "Thoughts?"

Very keenly did he feel like he was on the wrong side of an interrogation, as if he was a criminal.

"Well," he said swallowing through the lump in his throat, "to be honest I have not given it much thought."

"Gotcha," Steve said, smiling. "Couldn't care less. Nor do I blame you. You're a very busy guy, very tough to track down. And just what exactly keeps you so busy?"

"A myriad of things. Most would undoubtedly be too complex to explain."

Steve nodded knowledgeably. "Hence the _Mystery _aspect of your company's name. And you yourself, sir, are pretty mysterious. People have been clamouring to know more about you ever since the scandal." Steve grinned, holding up some coloured cardboard squares. "I'm happy to oblige them. So without further ado, it's time for the main event!"

There was another wave of sound from the ocean and Murdoch feared he would be capsized.

"Your work takes you all over the world. Where's your favourite place to travel to?"

Besides Buffalo and Bristol, he had basically never left the country. And since both of those places held negative connotations for him, they were out of the question.

"New Brunswick."

Steve seemed slightly surprised. "Sticking to the home soil. Sentimental reasons?"

"It is where I learned to be the man I am today."

"Do you have any hobbies outside of biking?"

"I enjoy reading medical journals."

"Uh, okay. Anything else?"

"As already established, I am very busy. I do not have time for many frivolous pursuits."

Steve smiled. It was clearly a bit forced. "Of course. Where's your favourite place to bike?"

Mostly he only bicycled as a way to get from one location to another and to keep in shape. While he did enjoy this, he had never really taken the landscape into account.

George had apparently crept around backstage and previously made it to the sidelines facing him. Currently George was mouthing something in his direction, but he couldn't make it out.

"I'm not sure," he replied honestly.

George shook his head.

"Which do you prefer, cats or dogs?"

"Without a doubt, dogs."

"A man after my own heart. Favourite movie?"

George was pantomiming running and a short repetitive downward motion with one raised fist.

"I do not have the faintest idea."

"Okay then, favourite _type_ of movie?" Murdoch still looked clueless. George looked like he wanted to scream. "Horror, sci-fi, drama, romance, comedy...you can stop me at any time here."

"Science fiction I suppose."

It was true for books anyway.

"Why am I not surprised?" Steve said with a grin. "Favourite musical genre?"

Nothing from this era so far.

"Classical."

George slapped himself in the face, albeit quietly.

"Biggest idol or inspiration?"

"There are many. Nicola Tesla, Alexander Graham Bell and Thomas Edison are at the forefront."

"Big shoes to fill. But it is my belief that you have already exceeded some of those gentlemen's greatest accomplishments."

"Oh, I highly doubt that is possible. I only dabble here and there."

"Rich _and_ modest." Murmurs of approval from the audience. "If you could instantly learn to do anything, what would it be?"

"Understand women," he replied without thinking.

That response garnered a few chuckles from the crowd.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you are dating the lovely Julia Ogden still?"

"Indeed I am."

Some rumbling in the crowd.

"You guys planning on getting hitched?"

George was clearly mouthing the word no over and over again.

"Eventually, yes. I believe so."

Louder grumbles.

"And what does she think about the whole Pendrick affair?"

"I really wouldn't know."

"Surely you've discussed it?" Steve said, arcing an eyebrow. "She was the one who cleared your name!"

Murdoch cleared his throat to give himself a little extra time to think of an answer. "Be that as it may, Steve, we do not like to dwell on the past."

"No I suppose you wouldn't. You're a very forward thinking guy. How does it feel to be the wealthiest man in Toronto?"

_Bewildered._

"Makes me long for simpler times."

"I think we can all relate to that sentiment. What advice do you have for budding inventors and entrepreneurs alike?"

Murdoch thought back to his own dabbles. "Curiousity is a necessity. You must always be willing to improve your mind. Read everything. Do not limit yourself to one particular area. Perseverance is also of great importance. Without that, I would have abandoned most, if not all of my projects. And patience. You cannot rush discoveries. They will happen when they happen."

George gave him the thumbs up.

"Wise words to live by. Okay now for some philosophical questions. If you could witness any event, past, present or future, what would it be?"

_The day I marry Julia._

"The day space travel becomes possible."

Steve looked confused and he realized he shouldn't have picked a future event to _his_ time without first knowing the state of things here.

"You mean like _human_ space travel to Mars?"

Steve's reply intimated that men had _already_ been to the moon and Murdoch was awestruck momentarily considering his favourite book as a child was about just such a thing.

"Yes, that is what I meant," he said hastily. "Or even further to...Neptune."

"What do you think about Pluto's removal from the realm of recognized planets?"

He had never heard of Pluto so he simply said, "There are worse things."

"Do you believe in life on other planets?"

"I'm open to the possibility...but I do not believe there are little green men on Mars."

Some more chuckles.

"If you could live forever, virtually or otherwise, would you?"

"No, such a thing would go against God's plan for humanity. Every life must come to an end or life itself would lose all meaning."

"I find your response very interesting considering some of your recent technological offerings." Murdoch gave him another blank look. "Don't play dumb now, Will, you've been venturing into the AI arena lately. Doesn't that go against God's plan as you called it moment's ago?"

"I'm not sure I understand the question."

"You're attempting to create an immortal self aware entity...making a cyber God in essence. How do you reconcile your beliefs with that?"

"If what you say is true," he exclaimed half jumping out of his chair, "I will put a stop to it immediately!"

There was loud murmuring from the crowd. Steve looked to be a combination of bewilderment and doubtfulness. "Forgive me for being skeptical, but I find it hard to believe that you didn't know about this. You are after all the CEO of your company."

"Okay cut it!" yelled George from the sidelines, eliciting an increase of audience rumbling.

"What the hell, man?" said Steve angrily as George came bounding up the central platform.

"Come on, Will, we're leaving."

"Like hell you are!" Steve jumped up to confront George. "I was just getting something juicy!"

"Steve, Steve, Steve," George said shaking his head slowly. He plucked the microphone off of Steve's shirt and held it in his fist. "I know you like to think you're an investigative reporter, but you aren't. You're just a talk show host with an inflated ego. And you just made a major rookie mistake. _Never _touch politics or religion. And never piss off the friend of the wealthiest guy in the city."

"What now?" Steve grumbled.

"Now you're gonna edit out that live forever crap from the final product or you're not gonna air anything at all...ever again."

"You can't censure me like that! You have no right!"

"Listen pal," George said poking Steve in the chest, "we had an agreement. You broke it. End of story." He turned to Murdoch again. "Let's go. We're finished here."

Murdoch looked to the crowd before leaving the theatre and saw that many of them were upset by his hasty departure. Clearly they had been expecting to meet him in person after the show. He was glad he was spared such an inanity.

Once they were in the helicopter, George rounded on him.

"How did you not get this?" George did the fist and running motion again (since he was sitting it came across more as a waggling of his feet). "Blade Runner! Obviously! You've only seen it like a hundred times! And when did you become so religious?!"

"I always have been."

"Well, it's news to me! You're lucky that wasn't live!"

"I meant what I said, George. I have reconsidered my position on this...AI matter."

George was incredulous. "You can't backpedal now! Deals have been made! Papers have been signed! You'll lose a fortune if you even _try_! We're in this for the long haul! Get used to it!"

"I do not care how much money is lost. You will put a stop to this blasphemy before it is too late."

"Unfreakingbelievable! He's lost his mind!"

"I assure you, George, I am of sound mind. You _will_ do this or I will find someone else who will."

"How many times I gotta tell you? I don't do well with ultimatums!" Murdoch just continued to stare at him. George sighed. "All right, fine. You win. I'll get right on that...tomorrow. With any luck, you'll have come to your senses by then." He grumbled. "Right now I need a stiff drink."


	6. Chapter 6

**Yes, people yes, you _will_ learn more about the Pendrick affair. ;)**

* * *

This place was atrocious.

It was so bad that he would rather be stuck in a shack with Stockton while the man endlessly berated him. Not only was it pounding with that same terrible racket that had awoken Julia that very morning, but it also had pulsating lights and more scantily clad women (and men) gyrating oddly and _against _each other in horribly inappropriate ways. Thankfully the place, what George had alluded to as a club – why anyone would want to be a member here was beyond him- was fairly dark and their movements could not be seen in great detail. Not that he was _trying_ to look at any of the young women there, rather, they seemed to be trying to get _his_ attention for some unknown reason.

Murdoch had the sneaking suspicion that it might have to do with their placement in the club. They were in the VIP section, whatever that meant, and seemed to be getting special treatment from the proprietors of this fine establishment. Various waiters and waitresses kept yelling at him telling him if he wanted anything, anything at all, all he had to do was ask.

Apparently they were anxious that he should partake of some of their colourful libations in strange drinking apparatuses.

He kept politely refusing every time, prompting George to finally say, "So now you're religious _and_ you don't drink?"

"I'm not thirsty."

"What?" George said loudly leaning in.

"I said, I am not thirsty!"

George gave him an incredulous look. "How do you expect to have any fun then?"

Rather than answer that he said, "How much longer must we stay here?"

"Jesus, Will! We _just _got here! I need to unwind! We _both_ do! And if you won't drink," he said grinning, "we'll just have to try something else."

George gestured towards two girls and they gleefully scampered over to their position. Murdoch felt a lump grow in his throat at the prospect of interacting with them.

"What are your names?" George asked as they settled into the booth between them.

"I'm Clarissa," shouted the long blond haired woman closest to George.

"And I'm Lucy," said the curly red haired girl nearest him.

Both were heavily coated in dark eye makeup. The effect was reminiscent of several domestic beatings he had been called to as a constable. If this was supposed to be a desirable or attractive look, he didn't see it.

"Nice to meet you two," George said, putting an arm around Clarissa's bare shoulders. Murdoch thought this highly inappropriate considering they had just met. But then again, people seemed to introduce themselves with their Christian names too, so who was he to say what was 'proper' in this day and age?

"I'm George and this is Will." George grinned again. "Will's having trouble getting into the spirit of things. Got any ideas girls?"

They both instantly exclaimed, "Let's go dancing!"

"That's kind of you to offer," he said, briefly eyeing the sea of depravity before him, "but I am content to stay here."

_On 'dry' land._

"What?" said Lucy.

"I said, no thank you!"

She tugged on his hand. "Oh come on Will! It'll be so much fun!"

Eventually she gave up and simply sat there pouting. This was short lived though for some shots appeared before them and the girls and George eagerly imbibed. Lucy held one out to him and he shook his head. She shrugged. After a few rounds of this George and Clarissa suddenly became rather intimate with one another, and Lucy looked towards him expectantly.

When the awkwardness became too much he cleared his throat and said, "Do you have a profession, Lucy?"

She seemed taken aback by the question. "Yeah, I'm in marketing."

"And do you enjoy your work?"

She shrugged. "It's okay...but what I really want to do is start up my own clothing line."

"So why don't you?"

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'll just go pull a Kissing Bandit real quick."

It took him a second to work that out. He was pretty sure she was not seriously contemplating robbing a bank but he was not certain.

"I have it on good authority that The Kissing Bandit has been apprehended."

This was true, Julia had 'texted' him to say as much. Now she was attempting to get a confession.

"Really?" Lucy said raising her eyebrows. "I'm usually in the loop. How come I haven't heard about this?"

"It was very recently."

"What kind of a cop...or reporter gets to sit in the VIP area?" Lucy peered at him closely for a moment. "You know, you look really familiar now that I think about it. Have we met before?"

"I highly doubt it."

"Hey wait a minute!" she said, snapping her fingers. "You're Will Murdoch! Aren't you?"

Murdoch swallowed slowly under her now rapt gaze. "Indeed I am."

"Wow! This is so freaking cool! You're like...royalty or something!"

He smiled slightly, in truth it was more of a grimace.

"Hey," she said, cuddling up to him, and batting her eyelashes- instantly he was reminded of Arlene Dennet and felt distinctly uncomfortable- "do you think you could loan me a bit of cash for my clothing line? The banks are such assholes and keep turning me down for some reason." Her fingers were walking up his chest. "I wouldn't need much, just a few thousand dollars-"

_Just_ a few thousand dollars? That was more than an entire years wages!

"That is hardly a small sum and completely out of the question young lady!"

Lucy eyed him disgustedly. "Man, you're an even bigger jerk than the banks!"

She stood up (albeit a bit unsteadily) and pulled her friend away from George's roving hands. "Come on, Lar, let's go! They aren't worth our time!"

Another dirty look later and the two girls were gone.

"What the hell, Will!" shouted George, gesticulating angrily. "Why you always gotta ruin everything?!"

Minutes elapsed in spoken silence. The music had not varied much and continued to throb through him in a most unpleasant way. He felt another headache coming on.

"Well, we might as well make a break for it too!" George said after finishing off the rest of the libations. "I'm over this place!"

They grabbed their coats and made their way to the front entrance. Murdoch was impressed at how unaffected George seemed to be by the considerable amount of alcohol he had consumed.

On route they bumped into Brackenreid and a dark haired woman he had never seen before. The woman shared a look with George for a few seconds and then headed towards the dance floor. George looked like he wanted to follow her but Brackenreid put a massive arm out to bar his way.

"Out of my way incredible Hulk!" George shouted trying to push passed him.

"Best leave her alone, mate. Your boozy breath is liable to make her pass out."

"At least I'm _man_ enough to hold my liquor! How many years has it been since you wussed out and quit?"

"Five years. Best decision I ever made. My body is my temple now, the way it was always meant to be."

George snorted. "Those 'roids jacking you up beg to differ."

"I'll have you know I don't do drugs, of any sort anymore." Brackenreid flexed a gigantic bicep. Even in the relative darkness, Murdoch could make out many a bulging vein. "This is the culmination of many years of blood, sweat and tears."

"Sure," George said rolling his eyes, "keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better."

Brackenreid seemed to lose his patience a bit. "You know what your problem is Crabtree? You're a sore loser. Always have been, always will be. All is fair in love and war...and buddy, you lost. Deal with it and move on. She doesn't want to speak with you."

"We'll see about that!" George exclaimed, trying to dodge passed the human boulder. Movements dulled and lethargic now, Brackenreid was easily able to grasp his arm and hold him in place. A bit of a crowd had begun to form.

"Get your paws off of me you damned dirty ape!"

"Quoting movies are we? Can't even come up with your own material?"

"This is assault! I'll have your ass in jail if you don't unhand me!"

"Sure I'll let you go, sunshine," Brackenreid replied, dragging a hollering George passed the curious onlookers and outside.

Hesitantly, Murdoch followed them.

After he was released, George tried to shove Brackenreid. Nothing happened. Then George punched him in the gut and something happened. George hollered in pain, flailing around like a buffoon.

"Now who's the monkey?" said Brackenreid darkly. "Go on now, get out of here before you _really_ do yourself an injury."

George eyed both of them savagely. "Way to have my back, Will!" he screamed and stormed off into the quickly fading sunset.

A short awkward silence proceeded this.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that, sir. I hope this doesn't put us at odds too."

"When did George become so..."

"Unbearable?"

Murdoch nodded.

"Beats me," Brackenreid said sighing. "I can hardly believe that we used to be best mates. It's a crying shame is what it is. He used to be the nicest guy."

"Well, good night...Brackenreid."

"Good night, sir."

* * *

Murdoch felt a bit guilty about not going after George. The fact of the matter was, he had no idea how to handle the younger man in this era. George was quite the wild child and prone to many fits of passion. In less than twenty-four hours he had managed to annoy or alienate many of the people he normally (in his time anyway) got along so famously with. Perhaps tomorrow Murdoch would look into the source of his protege's disquieted mind.

Tomorrow, he thought dismally. When will this nightmare be over?

After a surprisingly sumptuous dinner thrust upon him by an insistent Mrs. Kitchen, he found himself fascinated by the abstract painting Sally Pendrick had given him in 1897. Presumably she had done the same in this time as well. It was too coincidental that he had been entangled in some kind of sinister Pendrick web and also possessed this 'landscape.' The two must be connected. But how?

Steve Michaelopolous had said that Julia had cleared his name in this matter.

Cleared his name of what? What had he supposedly done that was so terrible as to require legal aid?

An unknown length of time passed when he was startled out of his reverie by warm hands wrapping themselves around his upper chest and a head on his shoulder. He would know her touch anywhere. For a gleeful second he thought he was back home. Then she spoke in her harsher Canadian accents and the illusion was shattered.

"What's the deal with you and that painting anyway? You're always staring at it. I don't get the appeal. It's so...ugly."

Murdoch turned around to face her. She smiled and moved in closer.

Just like him, the person she knew had clearly never informed her of the paintings origins. But unlike him, her Will had held on to it and even given it a prominent display spot. If he wanted to find out more about this 'Pendrick Affair', now was the opportune moment.

"It was a gift...from Sally Pendrick."

Her smile instantly disappeared and she took a step back from him.

"Why do you still have it?"

"I was hoping you could solve that mystery _for_ me."

"Huh?" she said, looking confused. "How could _I_ possibly do that?"

Murdoch hesitated a moment. "By telling me what she meant to me."

Wide eyed, "What are you playing at, Will? I thought you had put all that behind you? Why can't you let dead horses lie?"

"Are you saying Sally is dead?"

The very idea seemed to affect him more than he would have expected it to.

Julia gave him a suspicious look. "Have you been drinking with George again? You know you can't keep up with him."

"No, I have not."

She closed the gap between them and sniffed his breath. "If you're not drunk then I don't know what's going on here. All I know is I'm beat and need to crash for the night." She walked across the room, "Oh, and, um, thanks for the tip about Glynn. That slippery bastard cracked and confessed to everything."

"You're welcome, Julia. I'm glad I could be of service to the constabulary."

She turned to give him a scrutinizing look. "We're going to have a nice long chat tomorrow. No excuses. Capiche?"

"I'll clear my schedule," he said with a smile.

Julia snorted a tiny bit in laughter. "Good luck with that." She smiled, "Night, Will."

"Good night, Julia."

Murdoch knew he wouldn't get to sleep tonight until he received satisfactory answers. He needed another source to gain information from. The logical choice was Jasper. The problem was he didn't actually know how to find his half brother. Then he remembered he owned a 'smartphone' and wondered if it would live up to its name.

"Please locate Jasper Linney," he said into the device after 'unlocking' it.

A pleasant female voice said, "Did you say...please locate Master Winny?"

"No, I did not. I said-"

"I'm sorry but I could not find...Master Winny. Perhaps you meant one of these?"

A list of various places popped up, startling him slightly. Nothing remotely related to what he wanted though.

"No, ma'am, those are irrelevant to my needs. I would like you to locate my brother-"

An enormous list appeared. "Is that what you wanted?"

"Please stop wasting my time, ma'am," he said a bit heatedly.

"You sure are uppity tonight, William." More places popped up. "There are nine spas within a one mile radius. The closest one is-"

"Stop this nonsense right now! All I desire you to do is locate Jasper Linney!"

_Calling Jasper,_ came up on the screen. "Thank you!"

He held the phone up to his ear. "Greetings. You have reached Sergeant Jasper Linney of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

_RCMP?_ he thought distracted for a second.

"Hello, Jasper it's-"

"Unfortunately, I am not available at the moment. Please feel free to leave a message or try me again later."

Murdoch was very close to throwing his phone across the room. Somehow he controlled himself long enough to leave a message, "Jasper this is William, I need to speak with you. Please call me back as soon as you receive this message."

Not one to sit idly by for very long, he grabbed his coat and ventured forth. With any luck he would be able to locate his brother the old fashioned way.

* * *

**You know you've been staring at this for too long when 'good' doesn't look like a word anymore. :p**


	7. Chapter 7

**It's answer time! :D**

* * *

By the time Murdoch made it to the lobby, he realized an adjustment was already necessary to his plan. Since he doubted the paparazzi ever slept and he had no desire to be swarmed again, he looked to alternative means of transport.

"Henry, would it be possible to have my limo brought around front?"

"But of course, sir," Henry responded in his most obsequious tones. "It would be my pleasure to assist you in this matter."

A few minutes later he was nestled in the back of the oversized vehicle. They weren't moving for some reason. He tapped on the partition like George had done earlier that day.

_Was it really the same day?_, he thought, flabbergasted. _It feels more like a lifetime!_

This time the partition lowered with a tiny whirring noise from the motor. Through the small rear view mirror he could see part of the mans face.

"_Harry_?" he said, quite surprised. "What are you doing here?"

His father turned around and made a face. "My job, I thought." He grinned, "Or don't you remember hiring me for the night shift as a way to keep me off the bottle and out of the papers?"

Murdoch rubbed his temple. "Yes, yes, of course I remember."

"Well, where to son?"

Murdoch smiled, convinced this Pendrick matter would be put to rest sooner than anticipated. "Jasper's abode, please."

"Abode, eh? Well aren't _you_ fancy?" Harry said with a sharp laugh that resembled a bark.

They started forth, the divider remaining down.

"Pretty unusual for you to be out and about so late. Something important I take it?"

"Possibly. I'm not actually sure.

Harry's eyes found his through that same rear view mirror. "And you felt more comfortable talking about it with your brother than you did with me?"

Murdoch had more or less come to forgiven his father for all of his _many_ mistakes but that didn't mean he wanted to bear his sole to him, not even in another era.

"I'm afraid so."

Harry shrugged. "Figures. You two have been close ever since you found out the truth about my little, um, indiscretion in my youth. It's kind of freaky actually how similar you boys are considering the only common link is me!" Harry barked in laughter again.

"Yes, very...freaky."

The streets were more or less empty at this time of night and they arrived at Jasper's apartment within minutes. Murdoch hopped out and 'buzzed' up. No one answered. He went back into the limo.

"Not home, eh? Must be working a case still."

"Can you take me to his office?"

Harry nodded. On route Murdoch noticed a disturbing sight in an alleyway.

"Stop the limo!" he exclaimed, prompting Harry to slam on the brakes and Murdoch to fly face first into the seats across from him.

"Oh, sorry, Will," Harry said glancing behind him. "Forgot about the no seat belt thing. You'd think you rich types would want to-"

Rather than listen further, he dove out of the car and towards the motionless, brutalized figure.

"George!" he said shaking the younger mans shoulder. "George!"

Harry had come over to see what the fuss was all about.

"Holy fucking shit!" his father said eloquently. "Is he-"

Murdoch felt for a pulse. "No, he's not dead."

"Thank God!" said Harry.

Murdoch wondered vaguely if he even believed in Him.

"Help me get him into the limo."

George was heavier than he looked so it was with some difficulty that they accomplished this task. "Take us to to the hospital."

Harry was shaking his head. "People are such animals nowadays. There's no rhyme or reason to the crap they pull."

Considering the way he had left him, Murdoch couldn't help but wonder if he was a bit to blame for this most undesirable outcome. Fervently he prayed that George would be all right.

Several strangely attired men and women came out to greet them when they pulled up to the hospital's entrance. He assumed they were doctors.

After they had secured George on a sophisticated gurney, and two of them carted him away, one of them turned to Murdoch and Harry and scolded them.

"You shouldn't have moved him. You should have called for an ambulance. You might have done him further injuries."

"I'm sorry, I was not thinking clearly."

The woman patted him on the arm and in a hardly reassuring manner said, "What's done is done."

Then they proceeded to have a conversation about who the victim was, who he and Harry were - eliciting a double take but otherwise no exclamations like other women had been prone to- and what exactly happened.

"Does he have any family we can call?"

The state of George's family life was difficult enough to grasp in his time. There was no telling what it was like now.

"I'm not sure."

"Really, Will?" said Harry. "How can you_ not_ know?"

The female attendant looked between them.

"Well, we'll look into it. In the meantime, please take a seat."

"Can I see him?"

"Once we know more about the extent of his injuries, someone will come and talk to you. But please," she said gesturing to the waiting area, "have a seat for now."

Murdoch watched as various patients walked by, all of which were wearing open backed clothing! Why was there so much nudity in this time? And what was that unsavoury smell circulating through the air?

An hour later a male physician attended to them.

"How is he faring, doctor?" he asked, standing up, glad to stretch his legs. Harry had fallen asleep and therefore did not join him.

"His injuries are numerous and substantial but thanks to the miracles of youth and modern science," the man smiled, "he should be good as new in a few weeks."

Murdoch released his pent up breath. "Very good. When can I see him?"

"That privilege is usually only designated to family, but in this case, I think we can make an exception seeing as he has none."

Murdoch was taken aback. "None? Surely you must be mistaken?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. His parents are dead. Have been for years. There's no one else to contact."

"What about all of his aunts? He has at least twenty of them and they are all named after flowers."

The doctor gave him a strange look. "I don't know where you're getting your information from, sir, but he has no aunts."

"But what about his biological parents?"

"He was adopted?"

"Yes. Perhaps his biological mother would like to see him?"

"Yes, perhaps, Mr. Murdoch, but I hardly see how I can contact her." Murdoch looked puzzled. "Those records are always sealed. And even if they weren't I wouldn't. It's not my place to meddle in such affairs." There was a slight pause. "Well, come along then, sir."

* * *

Awhile later, George opened his eyes. Murdoch had been grasping his hand in prayer and felt movement slightly before this.

"What the hell happened?" George slurred, whether from the blows to his head or the high levels of alcohol in his system, Murdoch didn't know. "I feel like shit."

_What was this fascination with feces all of a sudden?_

"You were attacked and-"

"I bet it was Brackenreid! That bastard!"

"Calm yourself, George," he said with a firm hand on his chest.

George glared at him through his puffy black and blue eyes. "Don't tell me you're taking _his_ side _again_?"

"I am taking no one's side. We do not even know if Brackenreid was involved. I simply desire you to remain calm."

"Whatever," he grumbled, turning away from him.

There was silence for a little while.

"Can you really not remember who did this to you?"

"No," George said looking to the left, "the coward struck from behind first and knocked me out."

Murdoch frowned. "Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm not," George said looking anywhere but at him.

"_George_."

"All right, fine! I goaded some kids into beating the crap out of me, okay!"

"Why on earth would you do such a thing?" Murdoch asked, nonplussed.

George didn't respond.

"Do you dislike Brackenreid so much as to risk your own life for his ruin?"

George didn't respond.

"George, your behaviour of late has been very erratic. I am worried about you. What has triggered this change?"

George scoffed. "Oh yeah, _my_ behaviour's been erratic. Yeah okay, Will."

"George, you once were a fine young man. Now you are, well..."

"An asshole?" he said turning to face him. "You think I don't know that?"

"If you are aware of your unpleasant behaviour then why-"

"I can't help it okay?!" George yelled. "I'm just so _angry_ all the time!"

"Have you spoken with an alienist?" George gave him a funny look. "A psychiatrist."

"What the hell is a shrink gonna tell me that I don't already know? I already know I push people away as a defence mechanism to avoid being hurt again!"

"What do you mean, George. Who hurt you?" George grimaced. "George?"

"My freaking parents okay!"

"Your biological ones?"

He frowned. "How did you know about that?"

"Never mind, George. How did your biological parents hurt you?"

George laughed without mirth. "You mean besides dumping me on a fireman's doorstep when I was a baby?" Murdoch nodded. "Well I'll tell you, Will, since you seem _so_ interested in my problems all of a sudden." Murdoch simply stared. "When my asshole adoptive parents died six years ago in a drunk driving incident, I decided to try and find my real ones. I figured they couldn't be any worse. It took _forever_ to track them down with the few clues I had. But I finally did. Then I went to go see my dear old mum and dad. I wasn't expecting to be embraced with open arms but I _damn_ sure wasn't expecting what did happen! My parents were _still_ together _and_ had _another_ goddamn family to boot! But apparently I was trash or something! Gave them memories of a bad time in their life, they said! Didn't want to have anything to do with me! Can you believe that crap? I'm their goddamn son! Their first born! What bastards! And it's not just my family life that's cursed! I've always had crappy luck in love too! Every time I get attached they up and leave me!"

Murdoch didn't know what to say as George turned away and started to bitterly sob. He felt George's emotional pain as keenly as if he were his own son. Eventually the heart-wrenching sounds subsided.

"All I wanted, all I've ever wanted is for someone to _need_ me, to think I was something special. But I guess that's just too much to ask."

Murdoch placed a hand to his shoulder. "You _are _special, George. I have always thought so. Time and time again you have assisted me, stood up for me...had my back. I have always been thankful to have you in my life. I thought you knew that."

"Well I didn't," he muttered.

Murdoch's phone vibrated.

"You gonna get that?"

"It's not important."

"Shit, Will, just pick it up," George said more like his usual brusk self. "They clearly want to talk to you."

"All right." He got his phone out. "Hello?"

"William, you wanted to talk?"

"Yes, Jasper I did."

There was silence.

"Well?"

"Oh, right, I would like to do this in person."

"All right. Where do you want to meet?"

"Queen's Park. By the horse statue."

"Ten minutes okay with you?"

"In ten minutes?" Murdoch looked to George who was now watching him. George nodded. "Yes, ten minutes would be fine."

"Okay, see you then."

A nurse came in and scolded him for having his phone out. He quickly put it away.

Before he left he turned to George and said, "No matter what happens next, I want you to remember that you _are_ appreciated and loved. Can you do that for me?"

George nodded, smiling slightly.

"Good," he said with a similar smile. "Try and get some rest, George."

* * *

"All right, William," said Jasper tiredly, from his sitting position at the base of the horse statue, "what's so urgent that it couldn't wait till morning?"

Murdoch sat down beside his brightly uniformed brother, feeling pretty tired himself. He had been up for almost twenty hours straight now, in increasingly bizarre situations and the effects had finally started to take their toll.

"I'm going to propose a strange request of you, Jasper. Once I do, please just humour me and don't ask questions." Jasper signalled for him to continue. "I want you tell me everything you know about the Pendrick affair...and start from the very beginning."

Jasper rubbed his forehead in a reminiscent way to himself. This signalled he was very agitated. Then he collected himself and said, "Sure, why not? It's not like it's two in the morning or anything." Murdoch just stared and Jasper sighed. "From the beginning, eh? Well in the beginning you and James Pendrick were business associates, one might even say friends."

_To beginnings. JP. Wasn't that inscribed on the replica in my office?_

"But a rivalry started. And not just in the boardroom." He gave him a blank look. "William, you had an affair with his wife." Murdoch raised an eyebrow. "For months." He raised the other eyebrow. "When Pendrick found out he was understandably upset. But when she told him she planned on leaving him for you, well he became enraged and he killed her."

Murdoch gulped. "Then why did Julia need to clear my name?"

Jasper gave him an annoyed look. "I wasn't finished yet. And if _I_ can't ask questions, I would appreciate it if _you_ would refrain from doing so as well." Murdoch nodded. "Anyway, Pendrick killed her and then he framed you. It was brilliantly done. The alibi, the crime scene, everything. And considering she was found in _your_ place, and _you_ were nowhere to be found, the case seemed cut and dry.

"Later you awoke in a dive bar in Mexico, half unconscious and with no apparent memory of the preceding events. Confused and disoriented, you approached the local police station...and were promptly arrested. The case was so high profile that within a day you were extradited back to Canada. When Pendrick came out with the story that she wouldn't leave _him_ for _you_, you yourself were half convinced that you killed her and then fled the country, even though I told you such beliefs were nonsense.

"Since you were still apparently so confused, I insisted they check your blood for evidence of drug tampering. Nothing out of the ordinary was ever found. No matter what the tests said, I firmly believed that you _were_ drugged but that Pendrick used a designer drug, something that would be virtually impossible to detect unless they already knew exactly what to look for. When he confessed to Sally's murder, he validated my hypothesis as well.

"But before then, things were looking pretty bleak for you. Then Julia took up the cause. She claimed to have discovered an inaccuracy in one of the key pieces of evidence against you," Jasper grimaced, "something _I _even managed to miss. Further investigation proved her suspicions correct and the case against you fell apart. And that's as much as I know about this matter." Jasper looked at him pointedly. "Now are you going to tell me what this is all about, William?"

"I still have the painting Sally gave me long ago and I wondered why."

Jasper closed his eyes in exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose. "William, I believe I told you to get some rest. Clearly you have not taken my advice." Jasper glanced at him. "If you're still hung up on Sally, then you need to be a gentleman and let Julia go. It's the least you can do considering you owe her your current liberty."

"But I don't want to let her go. I love her. I always have."

Jasper looked at him strangely. "Then I simply don't understand what your dilemma is, William. If you love her as much as you claim to, what is preventing you from proposing and moving on with your life?"

Murdoch glanced away and said, "It's complicated."

Jasper clasped his hands together and stood up. "Well, if you won't confide in me, I'm going to bed. Once again, I strongly advise you to do the same."

Jasper took a few steps and then Murdoch came to a decision. It was something he had mulled over during the never ending business conferences earlier that day. His heart rate quickened.

"I have one more favour to ask of you."

His brother stopped moving but didn't turn around. Murdoch stood up and approached him.

"I need you to punch me."

Jasper sighed and faced him. Before he had a chance to react, Murdoch grabbed the pistol out of his holster and took a few hasty steps back. Jasper gawked at him wide eyed.

"What are you doing, William?" his brother asked slowly.

"Going home."

"Put the gun down," Jasper continued with supplicating gestures. "You're not thinking clearly."

"On the contrary, Jasper. I have never thought more clearly in my life. This is the only way. I believe I need my senses to be considerably jarred in order to awake from this dream world."

"Stop this nonsense right now!" Jasper said, making a lunge for the weapon. William barely managed to dodge him. Fearing he would lose the weapon (and his nerve) at any moment he placed the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

* * *

Abruptly he awoke at his desk. When he saw his surroundings he jumped up and whooped with glee, half because he was home and half because he was not going to go to hell for committing suicide.

His pocket watch said it was after midnight. He had only been asleep for a few hours.

Had that entire experience been the result of latent guilt were Sally was concerned? Had he subconsciously been attracted to her while courting Julia? Did he still harbour some guilt about almost killing her? Whatever the reason for that bizarre dream, he was just glad to be home and have a second chance at love.

Incapable of waiting till morning, he grabbed his hat and made his way to Julia's house.

It took many pounding knocks before she answered.

"William!" she exclaimed with a hand to her chest. "You've given me quite the fright!" She calmed down a bit and looked concernedly at him. "And it appears as though you have suffered something unpleasant as well." She placed a hand to his forearm. "What on earth is the matter?"

"Everything." He took her hands. "Julia, we have much to discuss."

Despite himself he couldn't help but smile.

Julia looked at him curiously. "Do come in, William," she said returning the gesture.

Murdoch looked off to the side and winked.

"Who are you winking at, William?"

"Oh, no one, Julia. No one at all."

* * *

**Well this was a crazy ride! Hope you enjoyed it! Ta-ta for now my fellow Murdochians!**


End file.
